Im a fan of band names that give you a clue as to their
allegiances. Certainly we all knew what kind of band Skankin
Pickle would be, and by now weve learned that a band name
that ends with tion is at least a crust band, if not a
full out brutal death band. Band names like The Plot To Kill
the President, or the more topical The Receiving End
of Sirens should also tip you off. Pop on the CD (or possibly
7) and youre bound to find a screamo variant honed in
basements, VFW halls, and garages. With the odd exception of
And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Our Dead, these bands
will never find commercial success, nor did their members ever
imagine they could. When you name your band The Receiving
End of Sirens you can expect to be called TREOS,
but you cant expect radio to care a lick.

Bostons The Receiving End of Sirens fits its name
well. If you expected two guitars--one providing chugging hardcore
and the other wirier, twisting, and metallic leads--score yourself
one point. But be sure to give a point to TREOS also, as they do
it well. If you thought there might be an active bass player who
would occasionally get a solo, or at least a spotlight flourish,
score yourself (and the band) another point. If you thought the
singer would make forays into the audience, or spend a substantial
portion of the show lying on the stage with the microphone cord
twisted around him, give yourself a half point  that was an
easy one. Give the vocalist a half point too. Finally,
if you imagined backing vocalists who would provide both low-roared
screams and anguished emo yelps, theres another half point
in there for you. Have you added up all your points? Howd
you do? How did The Receiving End of Sirens do? Not good at math?
Ill give it a shot then.

TREOS is the enigma from 1993  a holdover from a genre
stunted and held short for whatever reason, but one that refuses
to become extinct. I remember plenty of bands like this back
in the day, and I remember liking them all, so it stands to
reason that I like TREOS. Theyre complicated enough to keep
it interesting, primal enough to move the body to danced convulsions,
passionate enough to command an audience, and earnest enough to
sell it to you. If youre not a fan of the genre, well then
you wont be a fan of this band. However, if you are a fan
of bands with lots of words in their vaguely political names, then
youll score The Receiving End of Sirens highly.

While The Miracle of 86 may have a few words in their
name, theyre not the right kind of words to follow the rule
introduced above. This NYC foursome is named for the 1986 NY Mets
team actually  definitely not political. Theyre also
definitely not easily classified into a single category; oddly
enough, they might be better if they could be

In sharp contrast to the voluminous angst of TREOS, The Miracle
of 86 began its set with a loping country bass line and a lazy
vocal. The shock was extreme, but might have been worse if the
twangly guitar of vocalist/guitarist Kevin Devine hadnt been
drowned out by the sound of miffed jaws hitting the floor. Even
though I was already passively familiar with the band, I must admit
to some amount of dismay. However, after that initial punch-in-the-gut,
the band shifted again and the remainder of the set followed a loose
pop blueprint. Was the jolt of the initial song a conscious decision
to separate The Miracle of 86 from the previous set? I hope so.
Gusty move: four points.

Despite first impressions, the band is generally relaxed indie
with a bit of a singer/songwriter roughness about them. Although
they thankfully break the monotony with acceptable bursts of energy,
they often go too far; the resulting chaos seems planned if not
forced. The band further confuses things when it forays into its
pop-punk songs sung by guitarist Mike Robertson. Is this still the
same band? Should it be? Dock an appropriate amount of points for
foolish inconsistency.

Sgt. Peterson and the Chicago Police has no problem with
consistency, but hold off on awarding any points. This in
sound quartet of vocals/guitar, guitar, bass, keyboards, and
drums also offers nothing new. Working within the confines established
by The Anniversary (before they embraced their white-trash trucker
roots), the band builds indie rock upon power-pop and accents it
with synthesizer flourishes. Have we heard this band a hundreds
times before? Does Vagrant have room on their line-up for another
act? Take away a point from Sgt. Peterson for every band you can
think of on Vagrant. Take ten points away from yourself if you can
think of more than three. If you cant think of any youre
a liar, so dock yourself something appropriately substantial.

Like the majority of the band, diminutive vocalist/guitarist
Emeen Zarookian is energetic and passionate about the music he
plays. An admirable and personable frontman, he worked hard to
sell the band. That must be worth a few points. The small audience
(maybe 100 or 150) pushed toward the stage, and although there were
a few ringers present, the audience on the whole was plugged into
the band. I watched curiously as bassist Patrick OConnell
jumped about the stage, tethered to his amp by a cord so short it
hovered over the floor instead on resting on it. I wondered if it
was more likely that hed pull out the cord or topple his gear
entirely. Incredulously, neither happened. Award safety points
as you see fit.

While the bands set was largely uneventful (so much so
that I sat down to the side of the club, leaving the view to those
who cared), my ears perked up for closer This Guy (Right
Here)  a powerful new song with big hooks and giant
energy. If the band is capable of more of these songs, they
wont be just another band in a tired genre; theyll be
the band that revives it. Score points for recapturing a bored
audience member.

Chapel Hills Sorry about Dresden climbed on stage
late into the evening  too late as it turned out. A good
portion of the audience had already left with Sgt. Peterson, and
Sorry about Dresden could do nothing to energize those who remained.
In fact, the band seemed just as tired as the audience. Four rock
bands on a bill is one too many. Give the band a pity point for
playing last.

While the band has had considerable success purveying its hooky
indie rock, on this evening it fell flat. Vocalist/guitarist Eric
Roehrig crooned and strained through the bands well-written
material while second vocalist/guitarist Matt Oberst screamed the
more vivacious pop-influenced numbers, but nothing seemed to click
with the audience. The subtleties found on their CDs, which harkens
back to a Surfer Rosa-era Pixies, were missing. Instead, their
offerings were all chugging and straightforward. The music was
just as tired as the band.

While, in the past, bassist Matthew Tomlichs unbelievable
jumps and boundless bounding energy could be counted on to pep up
the audience, Tomlich has since left the band. And while the new
bassist is certainly a suitable replacement from a purely sonic
standpoint, he was positively lifeless on stage. When the foursome
closed with favourite Debt & Debris from their debut
The Mayor Will Abdicate, the band made one last push and
ended on a high note (and walls of wailing noise.)

When the smoke cleared, I ensured the band had a place to stay
and then hightailed it to the bus stop. Unfortunately, minutes
late means an hour wait at that time of night. With time to burn,
I added up the points and determined that, while there were no
losers, The Receiving End of Sirens was clearly the winner. Bostonians
should catch the band quickly  bands like this never stay
together long. Those outside of Boston just email the band, Im
sure theyll come play your living room for a vegan spaghetti
dinner and crash space on your floor. That is the DIY ethic Im
always going to score highest.